


The Warrior's Wildflower

by Charmtion



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Firelit Kisses, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 09:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmtion/pseuds/Charmtion
Summary: “Tormund,” she whimpered in that strange soft voice she used ever in bed and never without. Fingers knotted into his red mane and twisted. “Gods, you know how to treat me.”A wildling watches his woman undress - and makes her come undone.





	The Warrior's Wildflower

Tormund was grateful for the daily undoing of his woman. He sat in the shadows cast by the flickering brazier and watched her move lithe as a she-wolf across the tent. Layer upon layer of fur and pelt and leather and wool – off and off and off. Naked, rosy in the fireflame; save a strip of linen binding her breasts. _Bound by day, freed by night_... Bone-white fingers glimmered in the shadows to fumble at the tight linen. The big wildling’s mouth watered with animal lust beneath his fire-tinged beard; Tormund was _very_ grateful for this daily undoing.

Her breasts sprang free now: heavy, full, moon-white in the torchlight. Nipples hard as ice, dusky pink, aching for his mouth on them. Fingers flexed – he started up from the fur-tossed sleeping roll and crossed to her. Like velvet: her breast cupped in his rough palm. He thumbed her nipple, gritted his teeth to hear the hiss of breath escape her lips. Her throat stretched taut: a capitulation, a sacrifice – an offering. He marked it with his teeth, leaving a trail fiery as his hair the column of her neck, swooping down to engulf her ice-hard nipple in his mouth.

“Tormund,” she whimpered in that strange soft voice she used ever in bed and never without. Fingers knotted into his red mane and twisted. “Gods, you know how to treat me.”

 _Aye, I do_. His tongue darted out, lapping and licking, and he ran it in a blaze of heat down the taut plain of her belly, dropped to his knees before her now. She moaned. His hands found purchase on her hipbones: flint covered in velvet. A yank and her thighs were spread, showing the soft pink cunt glittering wet and hot in the fireflame. He sank his mouth on it at once: wide long lick, tight quick twist, sloppy salty suck that made her whine and keen and pulse.

“I love most every part o’ you,” he growled. “But this cunt... it is the best and brightest jewel in the crown.” Wild eyes rose to meet with hers; she shivered at their ferocity. “I’d kill any man who tried to take it from me.”

“I want you inside me, Tormund,” she murmured. Her hipbones shifted beneath his fingers and sudden as a storm she was level on her knees as well – leaning close to brush her lips on his, sharing the smoke of her scent that snaked his tongue. “Tormund Giantsbane, I want your cock.”

He wrapped her hair around his fingers and pulled gently, feathering her throat with licks and nips as her head tilted skyward and she groaned. “Where do you want it?” He ran his fingers between her legs, spreading her easily, gliding back and forth between her slick hot folds. “ _Where_ do you want my cock, love?”

Her eyes rolled back as he sank his fingers inside her. She leaned back on her elbows and raised her hips to meet his rhythm. In and out, in and out – half a thousand times till she was limp and boneless and begging. He was aflame in the torchlight, red-headed and red-eyed, a white grin lifting beneath the fiery beard as he goaded and guided her - _denied_ her now as he withdrew his fingers sharply and sucked the shine of her scent off his thumb.

“Tormund.” Her voice was the warning that shone as starlight in her eyes; he gave a low grumble to see and hear it. “That’s where.” She beckoned him closer and then rose up lithe as a she-wolf to push him onto his back and climb astride him. He snarled as she sank onto his cock; she smiled sweetly. “ _That's_ where I want it, love.”

Her words span to smoke on the air as he thrusted up inside her, his toes digging into the bearskins beneath them to eddy her high as an eagle upon his cock. She bit her lip hard to stop herself bellowing a moan. He reached up and yanked her chin; licked his lips to catch sight of the pearl of teeth and pink of tongue as her mouth sprang open.

“Curse and shriek and beg,” he growled. “I would have every man on the side o’ this mountain hear you come for me, love.” Her mouth moved in silent song; his fingers bit at her jaw till she gave a cry – pain and pleasure, savage lust darkening those starlit eyes. Tormund smiled. “Yes. _Yes_ , let them hear you – let them hear the warrior and his wildflower.”

Her head rolled back as his words landed sweet and hot as honey on her skin. She danced her hips sultry as a whore and he roared as a bear beneath her. His fingers clamped to the swell of her hips, burning white-hot prints into the soft flesh. She laced bone-white fingers through his, drew his hands up the narrow valley of her waist, pressed his rough palms to the rippling moon-white mounds of her breasts. He gave a sound, half-snarl half-groan, and squeezed and clawed, rolling her ice-hard nipples, pinching them to dusky pink peaks till she rocked faster and faster, her cunt a pulse of fire drowning his cock, her brow furrowed, her shell-pink lips parted in a full fat moan that sounded sweet as woodsmoke on the air.

“You want to come?” asked Tormund, his voice a roar, a grunt, a hiss. “You want my seed, wildflower?” He sat up and lifted her hips to slam her harder onto his cock; his mouth capturing a dusky nipple and spearing it with his tongue. “Is that what you want, love?”

“You know it,” she whispered. He shot her a look fiery as the brows set low above his eyes to hear how quiet she spoke. Pulled back from her nipple and put a hand to her throat – rough thumbprint at her jaw as he tipped her head for his kiss. She moaned long and low against his lips, felt his grin. “Gods... Tormund, _mmm_.” He held her stone-fast within the pillars of his arms as he fucked her with the strength of giants. “Oh, I _want_ it – yes, I _need_ it.”

Moon-white skin was a blush of bruise and bite; he followed the shadows as they chased across the marks his teeth left on her and he sank his mouth on each, sucking out the sting with his tongue and lips. Her throat was aflame with his kisses; she yanked him up by the fiery beard and took his mouth, pushing her tongue past his teeth and scenting it with her whimper. His fingers brushed an ice-hard nipple and she came apart all at once – broke from the kiss with a wet mewl to sing her moan deep into the valleys of the Frostfangs, her cunt gripping and clutching at his cock: a warm silky clamp that pulsed and flooded him full of fire and spice. He slammed up inside her a final time, twitched and trembled and roared, filled her with storm and seed and slumped back against the bearskins, holding her to his hot hard body.

“Tormund.” Her voice was a sleepy whisper from the fire-thatched spread of his warrior’s chest. She lifted her head a moment from it; her hair a torchlit rumple of curls around her flushed face and heavy-lidded eyes. He stroked back a curl from her damp brow and gave her his sweetest smile he used ever with her and never without. She licked and nipped at the salt of his skin, drawing a shudder from him as she kissed above his heart and smoothed her cheek back upon it. “Gods, you know how to treat me.”

 _Aye, I do_. He ran his fingers through her hair, wove the curls around his thumb to shine bright as gemstone and felt a rumble of happiness start low in his chest. Naked, rosy in the fireflame: their bodies stretched and stitched together, slick as river-stones, tight as smokeberry vines. He trailed a finger down the nape of her neck, over the knots of bone and grinned like a fool to see her shudder and arch sleepily into his touch.

Tormund was _very_ grateful for this daily undoing of his woman.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>  **NB** : a shameless smutty blend of book/show Tormund Giantsbane - because there are simply not enough fics on this brutally beautiful bear-like man. Feel free to leave feedback! 🐻


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